


in cold blood

by Lint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: "You think I killed him." "I know you did."





	

A half eaten cheeseburger rests on a plate just to his left, not taken away because he's a well established regular, and the waitress knows he'll finish it eventually. He's been staring at the same sentence for almost a half hour, the rest of the words simply not wanting to cross the finish line. How to cap off the biggest crime in Riverdale's history with a few choice words, the conundrum that refuses to be answered in a vacant Chok'lit shoppe.

 

The bell on the door chimes, but he doesn't look up, his attention only captured when the person causing the ring sits down in his booth uninvited. Their eyes meet over the edge of his laptop, his curious, hers glaring.

 

“You've been busy,” she says, voice sharp with that authoritative command she's so well practiced in.

 

He leans back in his seat, casually glancing out the window, before looking back to her.

 

“I don't sleep much,” he replies evenly. “Got to pass the time somehow.”

 

She is not amused. It's probably killing her to be seen with him out in public like this, despite being the only two not staff in the diner, he's so low on her social totem pole the semantics are maddening.

 

“Didn't figure you for a gossip monger,” she goes on, blood red lips pulled into a thin line. “Jughead Jones.”

 

The way she says his name. Spits it out as if acid scalds her tongue with every letter. He saves his work before folding the laptop closed, keeping his hand perched atop the machine, realizing he probably should have paid more attention before she sat down. He doesn't know what's in her bag, can't see her hands, and with the questions he's been asking she has every reason in the world to want some kind of harm to fall upon him.

 

“The truth is hardly gossip,” is his response.

 

Her head tilts every so slightly, and for a moment Jughead is glad he's never owned a pet rabbit, can imagine the poor thing boiling in a pot somewhere.

 

“The truth is whatever I want it to be,” she says in all seriousness.

 

“That may be true,” he concedes. “In the halls of Riverdale High. But most folks in the outside world take a little more of the good stuff with their tea.”

 

Cheryl is unmoved.

 

“I would never hurt my brother.”

 

Jughead leans forward and puts his elbows on the table.

 

“Unless he did something you didn't like.”

 

If there wasn't a table separating them, Jughead knows full well she would have slapped him across the face.

 

“Never,” she repeats. “Jason was my twin. My soulmate. With him gone, part of me is dead too.”

 

Part of you that didn't blink walking into a hangman's noose, Jughead doesn't say.

 

“Weird thing to say about a sibling,” he says instead. “Soulmate, I mean. Not your first time either.”

 

Cheryl folds her arms, and Jughead is glad to see both of her hands lack a weapon.

 

“He was.”

 

“So it didn't bother you?” he continues. “That he was in love with Polly Cooper?”

 

Her fist slams the table.

 

“That's a lie,” she seethes. “Jason never-”

 

“Yes he did,” Jughead smoothly interrupts. “For one solid month, they were such the shining, happy couple. One month, one day, too long in your eyes. You couldn't stand that he stopped paying so much attention to you, that his eye could ever stray from the dynamic Cheryl bombshell.”

 

Her fists are clenched so tight, any second she could just reach out.

 

“So you leaned on him,” he maintains. “Like you've always done when his attention wandered elsewhere. You're the strong one. The smart one. The mean one. Always getting what you want just because you want it.”

 

“You don't know anything about us.”

 

“You leaned on him,” he continues as if she hadn't said a word. “And the relationship turned ugly. But see, Polly knew he loved her. Couldn't believe he would just start treating her so badly out of the blue. She knew where the blame lay, but was never strong enough to fight you. So she fought for him. Cost her nearly all of her sanity, but she fought.”

 

Cheryl's mouth drops open, just a second, before snapping shut as she turns her head toward the window.

 

“Quite an imagination you got there Forsythe,” she quips. “Sounds like an excellent plot for a novel. One any hack could be left peddling at the airport. My brother is dead, and here you are pointing the finger at me out of some sick shipping fantasy you got watching Game of Thrones.”

 

Jughead doesn't blink.

 

“You're a cliché, Cheryl. Small town rich girl, stirring the pot when she's in the mood for chaos because she can't stand anything in the world she's not involved in. Especially her twin brother, soul mate, that could ever look beyond her for some kind of fulfillment in his life.”

 

That causes a few scratches on her steely facade, eyes darting to the window once more.

 

“Jason loved me,” she all but whispers.

 

“Not enough,” Jughead remarks. “Never enough to satisfy someone like you.”

 

Cheryl looks back to him, eyes icing over once again.

 

“You think I killed him.”

 

“I know you did.”

 

Cheryl's mouth twitches the slightest bit.

 

“But you can't prove it. All those questions you asked. All that snooping you did. For what? To cement your place as Riverdale's resident freak show?”

 

Jughead leans back in his seat again.

 

“I've been called worse.”

 

Cheryl's stares at him intently, and for a moment Jughead thinks her eyes may actually turn black.

 

“You're not going to stop are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Careful there, Jug. People so rarely say no to me. And if I am the mean rich girl cliché you say, don't you think I won't have any problem with making your life a living hell for painting me as Hannibal Lecter in heels?”

 

This time Jughead smirks.

 

“Too many eyes on you,” he replies. “You've never paid me much attention before now. Too lacking in status. But suddenly I appear on your radar? People will ask why. What did he do? They'll ask me, and they'll ask you. Somehow I think my answers would be more compelling, and yours just petty.”

 

They stare at each other, for a moment in time that feels so much longer than it can possibly be, only looking away at the sound of pots and pans crashing to the floor in the kitchen. The waitress appears behind the counter then, Cheryl looking quickly to her, before rising to her feet.

 

“This isn't over,” she warns.

 

“Of course it isn't,” Jughead agrees. “But aren't you curious to see how it ends?”

 


End file.
